like history repeating itself.

taunting; a bad case of flashback whiplash.

vivid, although a far cry from diagnosis.

i've toiled, but it doesnt seem i've done enough.

the world never opens up and swallows.

little by little, it takes and gives what it can.

only with accumulation across time will there be integration.

so patience is the key.

only three can see.

my craft, it departs from me.

fumbling like an awkward newborn.

my search is rusty; my execution, slow.

such pining i have for those good old days.

wee three.

sore throats and heartaches.

never had much luck with draws like these.

i'm not perfect

but i keep trying

'cause that's what i said i would do from the start.